


with love

by determination



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, bg promptis, brotherhood era, gladio writes poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-16 19:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16501676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/determination/pseuds/determination
Summary: Ignis begins receiving anonymous notes from a mysterious author who has a certain way with words.





	with love

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first of a couple old fics i'm posting. i've been having pretty bad writers block so i haven't been able to really write anything new. i figure the least i could do is share what little i've been working on, since i don't really have anything more substantial.  
> i wrote this quite a while ago when i was thinking about gladio writing poetry and how nice that would be lol  
> (i'm a little more self conscious about this one since poetry.... isn't really my forte... but i tried lololol)  
> hope you enjoy, and please no criticisms or critiques!

The poems start one day in spring, when the flowers have just reached full bloom. Ignis is busy, as always, but he still can't help pausing when he gets the chance to gaze out the citadel windows and spot each cherry blossom tree, each visible garden a mosaic of colors from the distance he's viewing them. He's not even particularly interested in flora. Still, there's something lovely and nostalgic about seeing the flowers each year, a reminder that at least some things are constant and reliable.

He finds the note tucked between two reports he'd left on his desk, having doubled back to retrieve them once he realized his mistake. It's easy to miss, a small slip of paper with no defining characteristics. He has half a mind to toss it out, thinking someone must have accidentally included it when the reports were placed there. But, benefit of the doubt, he scans the note.

 

_Petals scattered_

_vivid pinks and reds_

_painting the sky_

_like Monet's brush_

_As I watched them_

_I found the prettiest color:_

_the flush on your cheeks_

_when you smiled_

 

Ignis' heart skips a beat. This... is strangely intimate to have been left by accident. He rereads it a few more times, breath quickening.

Had it been intended for him? The paper is unmarked save for the message neatly written in black ink. No name attached, neither sender nor recipient.

Curiosity tempts him. He heads to the entrance of the room, peers out into the hallway as if hoping to catch a glimpse of whoever placed the note in his things. As expected, the halls are empty.

Taking a deep breath, he closes the door and returns to his desk, sitting down with the slip of paper still clutched in his hand. His next order of business - heading to Noct's apartment to ensure he'd finished his schoolwork and wasn't wasting away playing video games with Prompto, and then cooking dinner - can wait.

He reads the poem again, slowly. Savoring each word. It feels... like it's setting a scene. Like it's a snapshot from the day, otherwise insignificant to Ignis yet meaningful to whoever authored the note. If he is to believe the note was indeed meant for him, then the poet must have seen him at some point during the day. Ignis doesn't smile easily, so this person certainly caught him in a special moment.

_Prettier than the flowers_... Ignis' face grows warm, heat spreading to the tips of his ears. It's perhaps a little corny, but... the poem itself is rather nice. Clearly its author put care into creating such imagery.

He strokes his fingers over the inked letters, thoughtful. "Who...?" he wonders aloud.

  
\--  


The second note surprises him. He'd all but cleansed the incident from his mind, filed the first poem away in his apartment and thrust himself headlong into his duties, which left little time for trifling things like anonymous notes and their mysterious authors.

He's on his way to his car and has just sat down and closed the door, key in the ignition, when he spots the little slip of white poking out from under his windshield wiper. Heart hammering, he quickly steps out, dislodging the paper from its place, and returns to the seat. His fingers tremble slightly as he pores over it.

 

_City that never sleeps_

_Busy bees, busy bees_

_in a honeycomb kingdom of light_

_You, the finest worker_

_I hear you buzz_

_louder, work faster_

_but what good is work_

_if you don't stop to enjoy_

_the honey_

 

Again, the words invoke a clear picture. The metaphor surprises Ignis, but he can't help but feel the accuracy of it when he thinks about the way the citadel functions. Constantly busy. Constantly buzzing.

The message is subtler here, but he thinks he understands. The poet... is encouraging him not to work too hard. To enjoy the fruit of his efforts. Perhaps even to take a break.

This solidifies in his mind that the notes were, most likely, intended for him. Having been placed on his car, it only makes sense. This person has been keeping an eye on him, he deduces.

A part of him wonders if he should be concerned. He has no way of knowing the identity of this anonymous writer, and for all he knows it could spell trouble.

But, when he reads the poem for a fourth time, he decides such delicate penmanship could never hold ill will. There's a particular softness to it that he can't explain, the sensation producing a fluttering in the pit of his stomach that seems to flap its wings up into his chest.

He pockets the note gently before starting his car. A small smile tugs on his lips.

  
\--  


The third note is discovered when he has just finished training for the evening. He'd worked up quite a sweat testing the new moves he'd been working on to develop his fighting style, and after a pleasant shower in the locker room, he returns to grab his things.

The note is on colored paper this time, a pale blue that brings a soft smile to Ignis' face. He plucks the slip from its spot atop his briefcase, reads slowly through the words inked upon it.

 

_Elegance manifests_

_in sharp precision_

_quick swipe, swift flip_

_strong lunge, deft parry_

_two daggers poised_

_with temptatious beauty_

_A dance with danger_

_where my heart_

_is already forfeit_

 

Ignis' cheeks burn. This mystery author had seen him practicing? He glances around the room despite the obvious futility of the action. Of course the poet wouldn't linger, but he can't help the desire to identify them growing stronger with each time he rereads this message.

Who could it be? One of the Crownsguard? He has trouble believing that, considering they all choose to ignore him for the most part, only humoring him when he requests to spar. It's not that they dislike him per se, simply that they individually value their duties over the prospect of forming closer relationships.

The meaning of this note is clear: Ignis' training had been watched, and whoever it was had been impressed enough to imply he'd stolen their heart. A bold statement, really. Ignis knows he's not the best fighter, having only recently set aside the time to truly devote himself to the study of martial skills. Yet, somehow, this person had seen him and been captivated all the same.

That is enough to warm his heart. A feeling of gratitude washes over him as he reads the poem a few more times.

Three notes so far, and he still has no new clues about the sender. He wishes he could thank them, possibly even pen a response, but such a feat would be impossible without knowledge of their identity.

Sighing softly, he tucks the note into his briefcase. A few seconds later, a familiar head pokes through the door, bright grin greeting him. "Hey Iggy, you ready to go?" Gladio asks, sauntering over to where Ignis has just straightened.

For a fleeting second, the thought of Gladio being the poems' author flits through his mind. He instantly scolds himself, though. That notion would simply be wishful thinking. There's no way Gladio could be the one.

Ignis shakes his head to clear it. "Yes, sorry to keep you waiting," he smiles.

"No worries," Gladio assures him. "Iris always looks forward to bakin' with you. I doubt she'd get mad if we were a few minutes late."

Ignis chuckles at that. "I suppose you're right. Let us not keep her waiting any longer, though."

He tries to push thoughts of the poems from his head as he follows Gladio out of the training hall.

  
\--  


Finding a fourth poem shouldn't really surprise him, he muses, but that doesn't stop the way his heart beats markedly faster when he notices the slip of paper in his jacket pocket, which had been empty earlier before he'd left it at his desk.

He hurries to procure it, eagerly scanning the note with practiced readiness.

 

_You mesmerize_

_with every breath you take_

_every soft laugh_

_every bright smile_

_brilliant eyes sparkle_

_like stars fallen from the sky_

_and I, the astronomer_

_am blessed by your glow_

_Radiant, shining, perfect_

_I want to keep these stars_

_all to myself_

 

Ignis' heart flutters. He rereads the poem. He rereads it again, and again for good measure.

This _definitely_ reads like a love letter. The observations, the simile, and the last sentiment... If he is understanding correctly, it feels as though this person wants Ignis' attention.

"You certainly already have it," Ignis murmurs to himself, a wryly amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It's strange, but he finds himself drawn in by the word choice, the implications. This person clearly thinks very highly of him. There's something warm and comforting about that. That someone somewhere in the citadel had picked Ignis out of everyone else to grace with such sweet sincerity and kindness.

Regarding the note one last time, he smiles as he places it back into his pocket.

  
\--  


The fifth poem reaches him differently. He arrives to Noct's apartment in the evening, finds the Prince studying at the table. It's a welcome sight, really, since Ignis knows Noct has exams coming up, and he was genuinely concerned he'd have to threaten the boy into preparing for them. An envelope rests beside one of his textbooks, but Ignis pays it no mind as he heads straight for the kitchen and washes his hands in preparation for cooking.

"Hey, Specs," Noct greets without looking up from his notebook.

"Hello, Noct," Ignis says. He suppresses a smirk and bites down the comment he wants to make about Noct's studying habits, knowing the remark would likely incur the opposite effect intended. Instead, he walks back over to Noct's side and gazes down at the chicken scratch on the page open to him. "Good Gods, Noct, is that really the script of royalty?"

"Can it," Noct mutters, shooting Ignis a disdainful look which earns a snicker from his bespectacled friend. "As long as I can read it, it doesn't matter what my handwriting looks like."

"No, I suppose not." Ignis humors him, one brow quirked. Then his eyes fall upon the envelope, and he notices a name scrawled on it in a familiar style.

_Ignis_.

If there had been any lingering doubts about the notes' intended recipient, they vanish in an instant.

"Noct, that...?" he gestures toward it, confused.

His charge looks up and over, brows raising as he picks it up between two fingers. "This? I dunno what it is. Gladio said he found it in the training hall and asked if I'd bring it to you."

" _Gladio_ did?" Ignis' eyes widen. He's not sure how to feel about that. What would Gladio have thought, discovering such a thing? It probably doesn't matter, but for some reason, Ignis really doesn't like the idea of him getting the wrong idea. Wrong idea about _what_? This is perplexing, to say the least.

"Open it. I wanna know what it is," the prince jabs the envelope in his face.

Ignis blushes faintly. "Noct, it's impolite to pry into someone else's personal matters, you know."

"Yeah," Noct shrugs, "but I'm curious." He smirks, and adds, "So? What it is? Is it a love letter?"

"Hush up," Ignis snaps. He deliberately walks away from the table, retreating back to the kitchen as he tears the envelope open. He ignores Noct's protests, pleased when the lazy prince makes no effort to follow him.

 

_Sometimes_

_I wonder_

_do you think of me?_

_My heart is beating_

_One, two, skip_

_One, skip, two, skip_

_A rhythm of_

_anticipation_

_and fear, loneliness_

_and longing_

_Do you think of me,_

_like I'm always_

_thinking of you?_

 

After reading it, Ignis thinks he can definitely relate with the lines about their heartbeat. He feels like his own is going haywire, and he starts to feel a little lightheaded, such that he braces himself against the counter.

"Well?" Noct asks. He'd turned in his chair to face the direction Ignis had left, chin resting on the back of the chair. "What is it?"

"None of your concern," Ignis retorts, blushing.

Oh, _Astrals_ , he really wishes he knew who was behind these notes. It's maddening, reading such heartfelt sentiments with no one to attach them to.

Again, Gladio flashes through his mind, the thought fleeting, but enough to brighten the color on his face. It doesn't seem possible. Yet, that's what his heart is hoping for, isn't it? Some odd, selfish part of him wants to believe that there is hope. That, rather than discovering the note, Gladio had planted it there, and chosen to deliver it when it hadn't reached its destination. Far-fetched, he knows, as are most desires.

"Holy shit, it really is a love letter," Noct's voice comes from beside him, and he jumps, startled, when he notices the teen standing to his left. He hadn't even heard Noct get up.

"Language," he scolds, hastily tucking the note into his pocket. "Please keep your nose out of letters addressed to me, won't you?"

Noct ignores him completely. "That's actually kinda romantic, writing poetry and shit. Do you know who sent it?"

Ignis sighs and shifts his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. "No, I don't. Honestly, Noct, can you just-?"

"But don't you want to know?" The prince interrupts.

"Of course I do, but-"

"You should try to figure it out. Poetry, huh..." Noct nods his head thoughtfully. "I wonder if I should try writing some poems for Prom..."

Without a further word, Noct wanders back to the table, seemingly having forgotten Ignis, whose mouth is still open mid-objection. He exhales slowly and closes it.

The author of the poems... He wonders if there truly is no way to uncover their identity.

  
\--  


Ignis would be lying if he said he wasn't enthused at the idea of receiving another note. He's practically buzzing with anticipation, wondering where he might find it and what the contents might be. Perhaps it's childish, and maybe a little out of character, but he can't really help himself. These notes have brought a beacon of light into his otherwise monotonous routine, so he's willing to be a little more lenient about letting himself get excited.

Noct, in spite of Ignis' protests to stay out of his business, pesters him every evening, questioning if he'd gotten another _love letter_ (as he so likes to emphasize) yet. He'd managed to convince Ignis to show him the rest of the poems, as well. He's quite invested, and, considering Ignis' own thoughts about the circumstances, he supposes he can't really fault the prince for his interest.

"It's cool to see you enjoy yourself, Specs," Noct tells him earnestly, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. "I hope you figure out who sent you those notes. They obviously like you, and, uh... honestly, you deserve it."

Ignis blushes, unused to hearing this tone of voice from the usually nonchalant prince. He gives Noct a meaningful look of gratitude.

"So you'll tell me when you get another one, right?" The smirk is back on the prince's face now. Ignis rolls his eyes.

" _If_ ," he corrects. Though, inwardly, he hopes it really is a _when_.

  
\--  


Inadvertently, the sixth poem is hand-delivered.

A few weeks pass without incident. Ignis had tried not to let it deter him, but he finds himself wondering if there truly won't be another note. He tries to stay positive, though, as the citadel has been excessively busy as of late. He hopes the mystery author simply hasn't had time to pen a new poem.

And, to his credit, he finds out very quickly that had been been the case.

Friday evening, he's on his way to deliver reports for a meeting when he realizes he'd left an important document back at his desk. Cursing the amateur mistake, he hurries back to his office.

Once he reaches the doorway, though, he stops in his tracks, eyes widening in surprise.

"Gladio?" he voices, blinking at the Prince's Shield where he's standing at Ignis' desk. Gladio freezes, his gaze shooting from the desk to meet Ignis' curious one. "Did you need something?"

Gladio opens and closes his mouth a few times, floundering for words and coming up dry. Ignis notes with interest the bright shade of red flaring up on his friend's cheeks, stark and flattering. And then he notices the small slip of paper still gripped between Gladio's fingers, the sight so familiar now.

Ignis' heart stops beating for a painful second, only to kick back into action at three times its previous speed. Every time he'd hoped, let his selfish heart wish for something that seemed unreasonable, flashes through his mind now, a mirror of the truth currently in front of him.

"It _was_ you," he breathes, a new feeling of elation washing over him. Gladio is a deer in headlights, ready to escape at a moment's notice, but Ignis won't let him.

He strides quickly across the room, ungracefully dumping the reports on his chair before pinning Gladio to the desk. If possible, Gladio's blush brightens further. His amber eyes are round with shock, his arms slightly raised as if he's not sure what to do with them. The note is still clutched tightly in his hand, yet Ignis makes no move to take it.

"I-Ignis?" Gladio's voice comes out almost a yelp, and he squirms slightly as Ignis presses closer. "I-! I didn't- uh, I mean, I..." He worries his bottom lip with his teeth, clearly flustered.

It's quite cute, and Ignis can't stop the fond smile that spreads across his face. "I had hoped... that you were the one behind the poems," he says softly. He observes Gladio's reaction, the small jolt that shoots through him at Ignis' admission. "It seemed too good to be true, yet... Here you are." Ignis' eyes crinkle with affection. "I had no idea you were such a romantic, Gladio."

Gladio swallows hard. "I..." he clears his throat and tries again. "You were a good muse," he mumbles, averting his gaze. "I know s'corny, but I... wanted to, uh, tell you how I felt. Sayin' it out loud was too hard, so I thought if I wrote it down, I might... actually be able to do it."

"Understandable," Ignis smiles softly. "Though, on paper at least, you certainly have a way with words. Those poems were quite lovely, you know."

Again, Gladio gulps, looking sheepish. "O-only 'cause... It's only 'cause you were the subject." Blush dusts Ignis' cheeks at that. "Look, I'm sorry I didn't come forward about it. I was... to be honest, I was kinda scared you might think it was annoyin' or weird."

"Hardly," Ignis assures, gazing up at his friend with unmistakable fondness. "I'm flattered, Gladio, truly. I kept each one."

"You did?" That seems to catch Gladio off guard. "Wow, I didn't think..." He laughs, boyish, exuberant. "Just... Wow. That makes me really happy, Iggy."

Warmth spreads through Ignis as he shifts, wraps his arms around Gladio and looks up at him expectantly. "I was wondering when the next one would arrive. I assumed you were too busy to work on it." An affirming nod confirms his suspicion. "Will you read it to me?" he asks, eyes shining.

"Wh-" Gladio makes a noise in the back of his throat, somewhere between a groan and a whimper. "What about what I jus' said? That it's hard to say it out loud?"

"I want to hear it in your voice." Ignis doesn't back down, enjoys the particular shade of red currently coloring Gladio's face.

"... You're killin' me, Iggy." With a huff, Gladio seems to give in. He wraps one arm around Ignis, and brings the other toward him, note gripped between his thumb and index finger.

Hesitantly, he opens his mouth again.

 

_"Three words_

_Like every cliche,_

_they haunt my tongue_

_threaten to spill_

_every time I say your name_

_every time you answer_

_Piling up, overflowing_

_until all I am_

_is those three words_

_repeated_

_silently praying_

_that they reach you"_

 

The smile on Ignis' face is so wide it almost hurts. He adores Gladio like this, embarrassed but full of genuine emotion, with Ignis at the root if it all. He feels like he could burst.

"I suppose I should answer," he says, an affectionate whisper.

"Huh?" Gladio blinks at him. "Wh- You don't have to- I mean-"

His voice trails off into a startled grunt when Ignis, lifting his arms to hook them around Gladio's neck, tugs him down to connect their lips. Gladio stiffens at the initial contact, but barely a moment passes before he returns the kiss, chaste yet passionate. He drops the poem to Ignis' desk in favor of using his now free hand to cup the back of Ignis' head. Gently, he leads the kiss with eager, chapped lips.

Gladio is an all-encompassing warmth. The kiss conveys everything he'd written in his poems, and Ignis hopes that it further conveys his own feelings on the matter.

When they part, he breathes a deep, contented sigh, still gazing fondly at Gladio. The Shield remains red-faced, but he's smiling now, lazy and pleased. "That... was perfect," he murmurs, deep voice slightly husky. It sends a shiver down Ignis' spine.

"I'm glad," Ignis responds. He's a little breathless, but that doesn't stop him from pushing onto his toes to plant another kiss to Gladio's mouth. It's too tedious to continue like that, though, so he opts instead for Gladio's neck. He's not sure what to do, really, having no experience to go on, but the feather light kisses he puts there make Gladio chuckle and embrace him tighter.

"Don'tcha have work to do?" he asks, amused. He makes no move to stop Ignis, even going so far as to press his lips to the top of Ignis' head.

"Not much," Ignis contends. In spite of himself, he pulls back and looks into Gladio's eyes, hopeful. "All that's left is to deliver those reports." He hesitates, then amends, "Come with me?"

"You want me to?" Gladio's eyes widen. Ignis nods fervently. "I mean, I'm done for the day, too, so... If you want, we could. Uh, y'know. Drop those off an' then... go get dinner?"

"I'd love that," Ignis gives him a warm smile.

It takes a little more time, but they finally break apart. Ignis is reluctant at first, but he enjoys the way Gladio flushes as they exchange a meaningful look. He collects the reports, filing the forgotten document into the proper folder, hooks his jacket over his arm, then picks up and pockets the poem. Gladio, ever the gentleman, carries his briefcase for him.

Then they head out together, side by side, their arms brushing against one another as they walk.

  
\--  


Noct is hardly surprised at the development. In fact, he seems almost a little disappointed when Ignis informs him of what transpired. "Really? It was Gladio? But that's way too obvious," the prince frowns, elbow on the table with his chin balanced on his palm.

"Obvious?" Ignis gives him an affronted look. "Noct, this isn't some... romance novel."

"Yeah, but I bet that's what Gladio wanted it to be," Noct smirks. Ignis blushes faintly. "Kinda figured. But, all's well that ends well, right?"

"Speaking of," Ignis clears his throat. "What happened with your poetry venture? I believe you said you were going to give Prompto a poem of your own."

That shuts Noct up, fierce red sparking across his face. "Uh," is all he gets out before he hastily gets up from the table to make his escape. From that reaction, and the small hint of a smile that had graced Noct's lips when he thought Ignis wasn't looking, Ignis supposes it must have gone well.

Satisfied, he settles down into the seat Noct had abandoned and fishes out a small slip of paper from his pocket. The last of the series of Gladio's poems.

 

_With a soft press_

_of lips to mine_

_Breathless, trembling_

_Finally_

_I find the strength_

_to say it_

_With Love_


End file.
